Mr. Huxburg

Whenever anybody in the world orders cake, Mr. Huxbug can feel it. No matter what he's doing, he feels it

deep within the bowels of his soul. Some days, he's in line at the bank and suddenly hurdles over at the onset of the overwhelming feeling of cake being ordered. Sometimes he's sitting at his home, watching Desperate Housewives, and suddenly he'll tumble from his chair in near-crippling pain because someone, somewhere is ordering a cake for their child's birthday. As you can see, his existence is fucked.

The Take Over, The Rape's Over Edit

"We do it in the dark with smiles on our faces." -Alexander Shitbread

So who exactly is Mr. Huxburg? Edit

He's a simple little transvestite living on the planet MERRRRRRRRIKA. He looks like a faggot and only eats eggs. He can not eat cake because he hates it. He can not stand cake. Why? Because any time it gets ordered anywhere in existence, he gets fucked over by it. I feel sorry for him, but I feel even more sorry for you because you have little more to do with your life than read shitty articles on Wiki of Stuff.


It seems almost as if YOU are Mr. Huxburg! Is that a possibility? Do you know who you really are? Perhaps you merely think you do, but in reality you are Mr. Huxburg. Don't try to ignore the crippling agony of cake being ordered anymore, for if you do you have a 92.6% chance of having bloody, painful orgasms for the rest of your feeble life. BLOOOOOOOOOOOOODYYY!!! BLOOOOOOODYYY ORGASMZ!

Maybe I should just orgasm on your cake. Edit

Whenever you look to the sky, be sure you are wearing your sky-glasses. If you are, it is quite possible you will spot the Sky Genie. If so, he will grant you immunity to addiction, so you may go out and try all the drugs you want without having to worry about becoming strung out like a little bitch. Go ahead. Try it. Do drugs. Have unprotected sex. Drink alcohol in excess. It's fun isn't it? Until it turns you into a walking, talking vagina.

Oh? The creepy guy behind CVS didn't mention that part to you? Well now you know. Drugs do nothing but transform you into a literal vagina. In this strange form, you will have full-body periods. Your entire body will literally be having a fucking period every month. Like, wtf? Do you want that for yourself? Quit all your fucking drug shit, you pathetic waste of flesh.

Crotch fire

In other news, the wicked reasoning inside all of us resides to resent the rectum. Really. Ruh-Roh. It seems as if Mr. Huxburg has given in. He has gone to the supermarket and is ordering a fuckton of cakes - one at a time! This can mean only one thing, he has finally learned to find pleasure in the pain he feels when cake is ordered. So remember people, if you ever feel like bringing Mr. Huxburg some sexual satisfaction, travel to the nearest supermarket and order a cake. This will give him bloody orgasms.

The Rest of Me is Yours To Eat Edit

This isn't even relevant to the topic at hand. Ant hand.

If you feel like reading about the fucker with the hot dog in his hand, please read the article entitled "Crazy Man." It is quite interesting to see how he came from being some fucked up, cracked out kid to being the mascot of the most important wiki of all time.

Heading Edit


Okay, but in all seriousness, if you don't like this planet, just go to Mars. It's that simple. It's what Mr. Huxburg is currently doing. Imagine it; you could be freinds with Mr. Huxburg and be there to witness ALL of his bloody orgasms. Bloody Orgasms. Bloody Whore Spasms.

Excuse my profanity, but Fuck Shit Damn Penis

the cake is delicious a lie